


For the Greater Good

by GraceBe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 04:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12674895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceBe/pseuds/GraceBe
Summary: Set during Book 7. It's messy. It's complicated. It's war. And Minerva does whatever it takes - for the greater good.





	For the Greater Good

 

 Aberforth Dumbledore sighed weary of the world and himself as he placed the two way mirror - or what was left of it - back on the small table. Wasn't it useless anyway?

There was not much he could do to help, aside from checking on Potter and his friends from time to time. That way he knew they were still alive. Damn his insane brother for sending a couple of children out on a suicide mission where they had to hide in the loneliest and darkest places of the country. If he only knew what they were up to, he could be of help. But his brilliant brother had, of course, made sure Aberforth wouldn't be needed.

As always Albus had shut him out and left him with a piece of broken glass as the only connection to Harry Potter. Aberforth wished he had had the opportunity to tell his older brother that life wasn't meant to be an endless riddle. But when had Albus ever really listened to him? Aberforth groaned. It didn't even matter if Albus was dead or alive, but it would be nice to break his nose once again. Maybe another fight could ease the anger hidden deep inside of him. Merlin knew there were a lot of things Aberforth wanted Albus to pay for. One of them was here in the very same room.

He turned his head and as soon as his eyes came to rest on the woman in his bed, he realized the mirror was not only his last connection to the "Chosen One". It was also her last resource. This forsaken, broken mirror was the reason she returned to his bed night after night. She, as much as everybody else who fought this war, wanted to know if Harry Potter was alive.

But as usual _she_ had found a way to succeed where others just waited and hoped for the best. With the same determination she did everything in life, Minerva McGonagall had found a way to get her hands on information any death eater would kill for. Merlin forbid that Snape or You know who ever found out where and how and with whom she spent her early nights, before she returned to her quarters in the castle. It still fascinated him that she didn't seem to mind the risk; he suspected it was the Gryffindor in her. Her inner cat loved the fight ad well as the sneaking around. He hated how she exposed herself to danger out of loyalty to his late brother. Even now that Albus was dead and buried, she kept an eye on the students, he had sent out to fight a useless war.

He had never understood the strange connection between Minerva and his brother and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Aberforth had never asked her, what exactly her work for the Order involved, but the way she was twisting him around her finger every time she entered his house answered his question. If necessary or wanted Minerva could be anything a man asked for: submissive servant or desirable vamp. It gave him cravings to think that Albus had known about this quality and used it for his advantage or to use his phrase: _for the greater good_.

Aberforth rubbed his tired face, hoping to wipe away the images that his brain produced. He was sure that Albus hadn't had any interest in her aside from using her talents for his missions, but what about her? Where lay the roots in her devotion to the man she called "a noble genius"? Was it love? Blind desire? Desire she had projected on him, Albus little brother?

There were nights he didn't mind. Nights when he was just too happy to be with someone who was as scarred as he was. He enjoyed the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips, and the way her legs curled around his. In those nights he sensed that she wanted more than physical satisfaction or an answer to the nagging question, if Harry Potter was still alive.

In those nights he knew that, after all, Minerva McGonagall was human, too. At times, she was wild like a wounded cat, especially after a row with Snape or one of the Carrows. Sometimes she clang to him as if her life depended on him and then tears ran unchecked over her face. He often found himself on the receiving end of her repressed moods and at least he felt of use when he felt how his touch could release her pain.

Tonight on the other hand was one of the nights when he couldn't feel anything but bitterness. The feeling of being used and misunderstood, even fooled by her presence, because after all, he wasn't as special to her as he thought he was. He was just someone she bedded for physical release. Tonight he wondered who of them was the bigger whore.

This afternoon he had received a letter whose contents had caused him a physical pain in the chest. He had opened the envelope by mistake. The emerald green ink had made his heart jump. He hadn't even read the address, had just foolishly assumed, the letter were meant for him. But she had only wanted him to pass it to someone else. Someone who was doing business with the death eaters and some other dark creatures that came to his pub.

Again he looked at her. She was asleep, curled up like a well feed, satisfied cat, covered by a woollen blanket. She rarely fell asleep after they had made love. Most of the time their evenings ended in a fight over the Order, the war, or his late brother.

Tonight she hadn't talked at all. She had only entered his house, because she needed someone to satisfy her needs. Captivated by her as always, he had obliged, but the aftermath had never felt so empty and hopeless. The Dark Lord had risen again and he would kill anyone who attempted to fight him. Sooner or later the Order would have to surrender or every member would end up being killed. One after the other. Like all the others who had to die.

And Minerva? She was an incredible gifted and powerful witch. She was by all means everything he wasn't. Her pride wouldn't allow her to give in. Sooner or later You know who would kill her as well. The world had become a lot easier to understand since Voldemort was in control of it. There was surrendering to him and there was death. Nothing in between.

He startled when he heard her sudden groaning. He looked up and saw she was moving. Minerva stretched out her arm, finding his empty pillow. She froze, sat up and quickly covered her naked body.

"What time is it?" she asked alarmed and bent over the edge of the bed to search for her clothes.

"Not even midnight," he answered. "You're still on time."

Minerva shook her head. "Alecto is patrolling the corridors tonight," she said breathlessly while slipping out of bed. "I need to be there, in case she finds a student outside their bed."

"No sane person, not even a student, can be out of bed these days. Relax, Minerva."

Aberforth decided it was time for a drink. He opened the drawer and took out a silver flask. He couldn't take his eyes off her, while he watched her getting dressed. Her body was slim, a bit too thin for his taste. She had lost weight during the last year and it was showing. He caught himself staring at her small, but firm breasts, he scars on her chest, her flat stomach, and the marks he had left on her skin. He swallowed and looked away. The fire whiskey burned its way down his throat and he welcomed the familiar warmth of the alcohol.

"You have no idea! Ginny Weasley and her friends have declared eternal war at Severus and I can't think of a punishment that could stop them. I better be there, if they do something stupid!"

"Maybe they only imitate what they see? Are you sure they haven't seen you strolling the castle's corridors at night, though it wasn't your watch? Maybe they miss a role model to guide them."

Her hands that were pinning up her hair froze in the air. His tone had been consistently cold ever since she had woken up, but only his choice of words had finally made an impression on her.

"I beg your pardon?" She pierced him with her pearl like eyes and he frowned for a second. The woman could be scary like the Dark Lord himself when she was angry. Determined not to regret his insult, he took another big sip from the flask and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"You heard me. You're no better than those students of yours, just older." And I'm even older and a bigger fool, he added silently.

"I had no idea you were so displeased with my presence," she said sternly and finally continued to fix her hair. "On the contrary."

"You talk about honesty? I'm surprised." As soon as the words had slipped his mouth, he wished he hadn't said them. His goal was to drive her away from him and not allowing her to realize how much she was hurting him.

"And what is this supposed to mean?" Minerva snapped angrily.

"It means that I'm tired of you and your games. But what can one expect from Albus favourite student? He passed his liking of half truths and secrets to you. And he taught you how to use people for your advantage."

"I can't remember not being honest with you," she replied coldly and added with flushed cheeks, "And we had an agreement about our meetings."

Aberforth laughed grimly and rose from his chair. He approached her with slow steps.

"Right, our agreement... As if this..." he pointed at the messed up bed, "As if this is one of your school time tables. To me it wasn't, but you don't even notice it... Tell me Minerva McGonagall-Urquart where have you been with your thoughts while you fucked me? And don't tell me it's the children, because I know it's not true. Something or someone else's been on your mind the whole time."

Using her full name was a low blow, even for him. He reminded her about her marriage, because he wanted to hurt her. He knew perfectly well how much she loved, still loved, her late husband. It was part of their understanding that what ever happened in his bedroom had nothing to do with love or the people they had once loved. And now he broke that agreement. He was vile and drunk and he saw she hated him for losing control like this.

"You're drunk," she decided, turning her back on him. "And I'm not in the mood to tolerate your childish behaviour! In case you decide to apologize, send me an owl, but don't expect me to answer!"

She stormed out of the small bedroom. While he was still contemplating whether to follow her or not, her voice reached his ear. She was cursing.

In the living room he realized her anger resulted from Ariana's absence from her portrait.

"She's probably needed somewhere else," he said wearily.

"Call her!" Minerva ordered. "She isn't listening to anybody else! Apparently, stubbornness lies in the family."

"It's a more common trait than you might think. She'll be back soon..."

He followed her. The letter was in his pocket and he closed his hand around it. He watched her from the bottom of the stairs. He could literally see her brain working, evaluating if she should transform into a cat and risk to be caught by the death eaters as soon as the caterwauling charm echoed through the sleepy village. Caterwauling, he thought with a new trace of bitterness. Caterwauling fitted his mood perfectly.

Maybe Ariana had overheard their fight and left, because she couldn't stand the bitter atmosphere. She had always been a sensitive girl. Too sensitive to get along in this world. As always the thought of the life that Ariana had been brutally robbed off, made him angry and sad. It had always been complicated with the women in his life. His mother, his sister, the girl he fell in love with when he was in his fourth year in Hogwarts just before he had to leave, because he needed to take care of his sister. And now Minerva... and as always Albus was in the middle of everything. The spider in the web. His brother and his great plans for the greater good.

"I kindly ask you to call her," Minerva reminded Aberforth in barely controlled voice.

"She always avoids trouble," Aberforth said. "She knows it's not good for her."

"I know, I know, it's all Albus' fault. Tell me something, you haven't told me over a hundred times!" She whirled furiously around, ready to continue their fight rather than to storm out into the nightly cold.

"If my tales bore you such much, you should have stayed in your office. Merlin knows, I don't have the foggiest idea why you're here anyway."

"Actually, I thought I knew why," Minerva said, and now she sounded less aggressive, even sad. "But apparently I was wrong."

Unsteadily he passed her, placing himself between Minerva and the empty frame of his sister's portrait. The whiskey gave him the courage to confront her. Foggy-brained he pulled out the letter that he had been clutching in his hand and held it right under her nose.

"Look at this...," he started acidly.

"What?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the parchment.

"Your letter to Augustus Rockwood..."

Her eyes widened and for a moment she stopped breathing. "How dare you?" Her words fell over him like a chill. He saw the fury rising in her, could almost grasp it with his hands.

"I opened it by mistake," he informed her. "You're fucking Augustus Rockwood for information like you're fucking me for fun."

Minerva didn't answer and her silence was proof enough for him. Not that the contents of the letter implied anything else.

"You allowed my precious brother to turn you into a whore that socializes with Death Eaters... and for what? Information on another hopeless cause staged by my precious brother."

"This has nothing to do with Albus..." she said, her face now awfully pale.

"It has! Everything has to do with him! Always!" Aberforth crumbled the parchment in his hand, threw it to her feet and spat on it. "What do you feel when Rockwood touches you? When you suck his cock? Maybe he isn't the only one... what about MacNair? I bet there are a lot of Death Eaters out there who probably long for fuck with you!"

The pain as her flat hand hit his cheek was immense and he even tottered. His face was burning and one second later he felt the tip of her wand against his throat. She pushed him backwards and he fell onto the dusty ground. Feeling like a tortoise that was thrown on its shell, he tried to get up again, but the wand penetrating his skin convinced him to stay where he was.

Her face shoved itself back into his visual field. Her green eyes were sparkling and he could tell she was close to lose her usually well-tamed Scottish temper.

"Listen to me!" she hissed. "What I do outside these filthy walls of yours is my business! I do whatever I please and whatever needs to be done to bring You-know-who down. We all have to do whatever it takes to end this war!"

"You really believe that, don't you?" he croaked. "Believe me, nothing what you or I do will end this war!"

Their eyes locked and after another fear filled minute, in which he thought she would use an unforgivable on him, she slowly withdrew her wand. He exhaled deeply and used his chance to grab her. With one forceful movement he got hold of her hips and rolled them over until she was pinned underneath him. He barely used his physical strength on anyone else than drunken customers, but tonight it seemed appropriate to use it against her.

"What are you thinking, you bloody fool?!" she yelled when he pushed her arms over her head and shook her wrist until she lost hold of her wand.

"I'm thinking that you need to stop selling yourself for Albus Dumbledore and this hopeless mission of his!" he answered bluntly into her face.

"Why do you care?" she hissed. "Why does it concern you?"

He ignored the question, the assumption, behind it. "It's not worth it, Minerva." He answered and released her wrists, without moving away from her. His hand came to rest within her hair. He started to pull out the pins she had had just applied a few minutes earlier. The few grey strays within the sea of raven black hair always awoke his wish to dug his hands into it. And tonight, as infuriated as he was, was no exception.

"Don't," she tried to shake him off, as he forced her to look him in the eyes.

"Why not?" he asked against her mouth. "You're quite available for everyone, aren't you?"

She answered with a pulled up knee, but he had seen it coming and so she hit just his upper thigh.

"You know nothing!" Now she was fighting him like the cat she really was. She bit, kicked and spat at him, but he pushed his full weight onto her and held her arms firmly over her head.

"Then tell me, Minerva. Tell me, why you're doing this."

"Because it's necessary! I've known Rockwood since our time in Hogwarts... he'd do anything to have me... even telling me everything he knows about the Death Eaters meetings... You-know-who's whereabouts..."

Her explanation made him sick. To think that she was spreading her legs for a filthy dark wizard and allowed him to fuck her like any Knockturn alley whore was turning his stomach.

"And who tells you he isn't using you?" he asked. "Who tells you he isn't laughing about you, once you've left his bed?"

"Because so far everything he's told me was true. And I highly doubt I'd still be alive if he's told anyone about me!"

He wasn't convinced. He found himself fearing for her safety and this cognition went along with the realization that he wasn't just someone who couldn't share a woman with someone else. He was an old fool who had fallen for her. He was in love with her.

"Let me go now!" she demanded. "I have to take care of my students!"

Suddenly feeling too weak to keep her locked between him and the stone floor, he released her. He sat back and ran his fingers through his long, greyish hair.

"Go," he sat lowly. "Ariana will be back soon... she never stays away for too long."

She didn't thank him as she got back to her feet. For the next few minutes utter silence feel over them. She fixed her clothing and her hair, before she picked up her wand. This time he didn't watch her. He just stared through the half darkness of the room, lost in his thoughts and the realization of his feelings for her.

As he had told her Ariana returned soon and the portrait opened.

"Write the letter again. I'll pass it to Rockwood," he said quietly, just when she was entering the hole in the wall.

"Thank you," she returned without looking back. The portrait closed behind her and he remained sitting there on the dirty floor. She would return the next night and the night after that and he would be waiting for her. And he waited for the right moment to put an end to it. Maybe he had to kill Rockwood to accomplish that, but a death eaters death was low price if it restored her dignity – and his own.

"For the greater good, Minerva," he said into the loneliness of his home. "For the greater good."

***Finis***

 


End file.
